Thursday, July 16, 2009

I Give You My heart

Once there was a boy who loved a girl, as so many do. And like so many boys, he had been told by his mother that one day he would meet a girl and want to give her his heart. So he did. He came to her door with the front of his shirt still bloody, so that she cried out with alarm when she saw him, but he brushed aside her concerns and pressed a bundle wrapped in white paper into her arms. “Go on, unwrap it,” he said eagerly. “See what I have done for you!” Backing into her house, still casting anxious glances at his bloody shirt, she carefully unwrapped his gift. When she saw the rounded bloody mass, excitedly throbbing in her hands, she nearly fainted. She looked up at him, horrified. “What…?” “It’s my heart. I have given it to you!” She looked at the heart in her hands, and then at the bloody front of his shirt. “But why would you do such a thing?” He looked stunned. “Last night, you said you loved me, and I said I loved you. Isn’t that what you ought to do after you have pledged your love – to give them your heart?” She cradled the heart in her arms and stroked it gently with her fingertips. He moaned softly with pleasure. “But…that’s just a saying. You shouldn’t do it literally!” He shook his head, confused “Are you saying you don’t want my heart? I thought you cared!” “I do care. I care too much to see you put yourself in so much danger over a silly gesture like this.” His eyes darkened. “You think it’s silly? I did this for you!” “Well, you shouldn’t have! Don’t you see how dangerous it is to take your heart out like this?” As she spoke, she carelessly clutched the heart just a tiny bit too hard. The boy gasped in pain and doubled over, clutching at his heartless chest. “Oh, dear, did I do that?” “I’m sorry, I know you didn’t mean to do that. Just…be careful with it.” She gave the heart some careful strokes, then stopped and sighed heavily. “God, I wish you hadn’t done this. There are other ways of showing that you care. You didn’t have to do this to yourself – or to me.” “What? What do you mean, do this to you?” “Well, look, what am I supposed to do with your heart? Am I supposed to just carry it around with me all the time?” “Well, why not?” “For one thing, I have work to do. For another, it’s just too much responsibility. Carrying your heart around with me is like having a baby to look after. If I make a mistake, I could kill you, or cause you so much pain.” “Well, what do you want me to do then? Take my heart back? Put it back in my chest?” “Yes. Your heart needs to be in your chest, protected by your ribs. That’s where it belongs. That’s the best place for it. It won’t mean I love you any less.” The boy sighed. “All right, then.” He unbuttoned his shirt, and reached for his heart. “No. Let me do it.” She nestled the heart lovingly in its spot, and gently reconnected the aorta and vena cava. She withdrew her hands, and his ribs quickly closed around his heart. The skin followed moments later. The boy looked down sadly at the unbroken skin between his nipples. “I’m sorry you didn’t like your gift.” “Well, I’m sorry I couldn’t accept it. I do love you, you know.” She placed her hand on his chest. “I can still feel it beating, you know.” “Really?” “Yes. Come feel mine.”

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Life is full of surprises. This blog (and its predecessor, misterniceguy1960) was originally created for me to advertise for a lover. Later, it served as a brag-diary about my sexual exploits. Now, I am committed to a monogamous relationship with my wife. Surprise.